Quote of the day

[iambiguous]

The Grifters

Myra: But they must be diamonds! They cut glass!
Jeweler: Glass will cut glass, Mrs. Langtry. Almost anything will.

No, really, what's the deal here?

Myra: I have only one thing now. Are you interested?
Jeweler: Well, I’d have to see it, of course.
Myra: You are seeing it. You’re looking right at it.
Jeweler: Mrs. Langtry, something like this very rarely happens. The fine setting and workmanship usually means precious stones. It always hurts me when I find they’re not. I always hope I’m mistaken.

Tell that to Warren Beatty.

Mintz: You’re too young. You ought to be in school.
Roy: I am in school.

So's Mom.

Mintz: Grifter’s got an irresistable urge to be the guy who’s wise. There’s nothing to whipping a fool. Hell, fools are made to be whipped. But to take another pro, even your partner, who knows you and has his eye on you – that’s a score.

Then he takes him for a twenty. The short con let's call it.

Doctor: Miss Dillon, I’m sorry about our little disagreement on the phone. And I’m really sorry about your son. Well, it’s hard to believe that such a strapping young man is your son.
Lilly: Never mind that, just take care of him.
Doctor: He’s had, he’s had an internal hemorrhage. He’s bleeding to death.
Lilly: Well, make it stop!
Doctor: His blood pressure’s under a hundred. I don’t think he’s going to make it to the hospital.
Lilly: You know who I work for.
Doctor: There’s just so much I can do.
Lilly: My son is going to be all right. If not, I’ll have you killed.

Tell that to Bobo.

Myra: I’m a very practical little girl, and I don’t believe in giving any more than I get. And that may be pretty awkward for a match-book salesman or whatever you are.
Roy: Everybody needs matches.
Myra: What do you sell anyway?
Roy: Self-confidence.
Myra: God knows you have it to spare.

And she's the roper.

[iambiguous]

The Grifters

Roy: And what’s your objection to Myra?
Lilly: Same as anybody’s.

Ouch.

Lilly: You’re working some angle, and don’t tell me you’re not because I wrote the book!
Roy: What about you? You still handling playback money for the mob?
Lilly: That’s me. That’s who I am. You were never cut out for the rackets, Roy.
Roy: How come?
Lilly: You aren’t tough enough.
Roy: Not as tough as you, huh?
Lilly: Get off the grift, Roy.
Roy: Why?
Lilly: You haven’t got the stomach for it.

Neither does Carol...

Roy: Carol, do you know why my mother hired you?
Carol: Uh, yes. I’ll come every afternoon and make sure you feel…
Roy: She hired you for me to fuck. To keep me away from bad influences.

The look on Carol's face!

Myra [lying naked in bed]: Can’t be done, Joe. All passangers must pay as they enter. No free passes or rebates. That’s a strict rule of the intercourse commerce comission.
Joe: Oh, God!
Myra: Only one choice to a customer: the lady, or the loot. What’s it gonna be?

It was almost a close call this time though.

Bobo: Troubador…How did you figure you were gonna get away with that?
Lilly: I’m not getting away with anything, Bobo.
Bobo: You’re fucking right! How much did your pals cut you in for on that nag, or did they give you the same kind of screwing you gave me?
Lilly: I was down on that horse, Bobo. Maybe not as much as I should’ve been. There was a lotta action…
Bobo: One question! You wanna stick to that story or you wanna keep your teeth?
Lilly: I wanna keep my teeth.

Cue the oranges.

Bobo: What the fuck are you doing with a son?

Before she kills him, in other words.
Accidently?

[iambiguous]

The Grifters

Bobo: Ever hear about the oranges, Lilly?
Lilly: You mean the insurance scam?
Bobo [kicking a bag of oranges onto the floor]: Tell me about the oranges, Lilly, while you put those in the towel.
Lilly: You hit a person with the oranges wrapped up in a towel, they get big, ugly-looking bruises, but they don’t really get hurt, not if you do it right. It’s for working scams against insurance companies.
Bobo: And if you do it wrong?
Lilly: It can louse up your insides. You can get pe-pe-pe…
Bobo: What?
Littly: Per- per-permanent damage.
Bobo: You never shit right again.

Cue the cigar.

Roy: It’s great to get away, isn’t it? Take some time off. Next week, I’ll be back to work.
Myra: You already went back to work.
Roy: What?
Myra: I watched you, working the tat on those sailor boys.
Roy: Working the what?
Myra: Oh, come on, Roy, the tat. What you do for a living.
Roy: I’m a salesman.
Myra: You’re on the grift, same as me.
Roy: Myra, I’m not following you.
Myra: Roy, you’re a short-con operator…and a good one, I think. Don’t talk to me like I’m another square!

Cue the long con.

Roy: You talk the lingo. What’s your pitch?
Myra: The long end, big con.
Roy: Nobody does that single-o.
Myra: I was teamed ten years with the best in the business, Cole Langley.
Roy: I’ve heard the name.
Myra: It was beautiful! And getting better all the time.
Roy: Is that right?
Myra: It is, Roy. It’s where you should be. What do you bring in, $300, $400 a week? We used money like that for tips!

Cole. Remember him? Whacked out of his long con mind.

Roy: It’s up to me. I’m strictly short con. It’s nothing but small time stuff. I can walk away from it anytime I want.
Lilly: Where have I heard that before?
Roy: Yeah, but I’m in control.
Lilly: Sure. You’re only 25 years old, already you can lay down four grand without even turning a hair. Grift’s like anything else, Roy. You don’t stand still. You either go up or down. Usually down, sooner or later.
Roy: Well, I’ll let it be a surprise, then.

Let's just say there are surprises around for all of them.

Myra [hurt and confused]: What is it? What’s goin’ on? Why don’t you wanna team up?
Roy: The BEST reason I can think of is that you scare the hell out of me. I have seen women like you before, baby. You’re double-tough and you are sharp as a razor, and you get what you want or else; but you don’t make it work forever. Sooner or later the lightning hits, and I’m not gonna be around when it hits you.

That's Mom's job.

Myra: My God, it’s your mother. It’s Lilly.
Roy: What?
Myra: Sure it is. That’s why you act so funny around each other.
Roy: What’s that?
Myra: Oh, don’t act so god-damned innocent!
[Myra is disgusted]
Myra: You and your own mother? Ugh! You like to go back where you been, huh?
Roy: Watch your mouth.
Myra: Yeah, I’m wise to you! I should have seen it before, you rotten son of a bitch. How is it, huh? How do you like it-
[Roy slaps her so hard that she falls to the floor]

Uh, she deserved it?

[iambiguous]

God

“Religious bondage shackles and debilitates the mind, and unfits it for every noble enterprise, every expanded prospect.” James Madison

Amen?

“The wizard of Oz says look inside yourself and find self. God says look inside yourself and find the Holy Spirit. The first will get you to Kansas.
The latter will get you to heaven.
Take your pick.” Max Lucado

Next up: demonstrating that Kansas actually does exist.

“Look, I know you meant well creating the world and all, but how could you let it get away from you like this? How come you couldn't stick with your original idea of paradise?” Sue Monk Kidd

Don't blame Him, right?

“A sacrament--like marriage--means living a life better than your natural instincts, so that you're modeling God.” Jodi Picoult

God? The creator of those natural instincts?

“If there was a god, I'd still have both nuts.” Lance Armstrong

You tell me.

“Philosophy and science have not always been friendly toward the idea of God, the reason being they are dedicated to the task of accounting for things and are impatient with anything that refuses to give an account of itself. The philosopher and the scientist will admit that there is much that they do not know; but that is quite another thing from admitting there is something which they can never know, which indeed they have no technique for discovering.” A. W. Tozer

And this explains...what exactly?

[iambiguous]

Amadeus

Salieri: Leave me alone.
Father Vogler: I cannot leave alone a soul in pain.
Salieri: Do you know who I am?
Father Vogler: It makes no difference. All men are equal in God’s eyes.
Salieri: [leans in mockingly] Are they?

This is really less a movie about genius than about mediocrity. In particular the mediocre artists who are truly cursed [some crushed] by their own inherent limitations.

To wit...

Salieri: How well are you trained in music?
Father Vogler: I know a little. I studied it in my youth.
Salieri: Where?
Father Vogler: Here in Vienna.
Salieri: Then you must know this.
[plays music]
Father Vogler: I can’t say that I do. What is it?
Salieri: It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. Here, how about this? This one brought down the house when we played it. Well?
Father Vogler: I regret it is not too familiar.
Salieri: Can you remember no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe. I wrote 40 operas alone. Here! What about this one?
Father Vogler: [smiling] Yes, I know that! Oh, that’s charming! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wrote that.
Salieri: I didn’t. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Same with philosophers, isn't it?

Salieri [to priest]: My father, he did not care for music. When I told him how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say; “Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe, doing tricks like a circus freak?”
[Salieri chuckles ruefully]
Salieri: How could I tell him what music meant to me?

I doubt anyone will ever capture this in a...world of words?

Salieri [to priest]: While my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of: Lord, make me a great composer. Let me celebrate Your glory through music and be celebrated myself. Make me famous through the world, dear God. Make me immortal. After I die, let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote. In return, I will give You my chastity, my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life, Amen.

Next up: your God.

Salieri: Mozart came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of the Prince Archbishop of Salzburg . Eagerly, l went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. As l wandered through the salon l played a little game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four. His first symphony at seven. A full-scale opera at twelve! Did it show? ls talent like that written on the face? Which one of them could he be?

Next up...

Salieri: That was Mozart. That giggling dirty-minded creature I had just seen, crawling on the floor!

What, God didn't work in mysterious ways back then?

[iambiguous]

Madness

“Life without madness is mediocrity.” Nelou Keramati

My guess: you can take it too far.

“Behind their dark glass, the mad own nothing.” Penelope Fitzgerald

Next up: explaining that to them.

“Just as modern motorways have no room for ox-carts or wandering pedestrians, so modern society has little place for lives and ways that are too eccentric.” A.C. Grayling

And how might that be applicable here?

“But maybe that isn't possible. Maybe the mind of the majority is always the healthy mind, simply by virtue of its numbers. Maybe it's the definition of madness to believe I'm right and everyone else if wrong, to find my thoughts rational and reasonable when almost the entire world finds them damaged and flawed.” Stacey Jay

Next up: maybe not of course

“Gavin, I can’t talk to you here. People will call me crazy."
My imaginary friend smirked. "But you’re already talking to me."
"Well, I have to stop."
His smirk grew cocky. "I doubt you can resist."
And he was right. There was nothing I wanted more than to give my full attention to an imagined shadow and ignore those who ignored me in the real world. I wanted to talk out loud to Gavin―to play and laugh boisterously with him. In a dream I could justify such behavior, but to succumb to hallucinations while wide awake would only prove me insane.” Richelle Goodrich

Next up: all of our imaginary friends here.

“To begin cooking duck at one in the morning is one of the finest acts of madness that can be undertaken by a human being who is not mad.” Manuel Vázquez Montalbán

And certainly not politically correct.

[iambiguous]

Amadeus

Salieri: On the page it looked like nothing. The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse - bassoons and basset horns - like a rusty squeezebox. And then suddenly - high above it - an oboe, a single note, hanging there unwavering, till a clarinet took over and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight! This was no composition by a performing monkey! This was a music I’d never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing, it had me trembling. It seemed to me that I was hearing the very voice of God. But why? Why would God choose an obscene child to be hisinstrument? It was not to be believed. This piece had to be an accident. It had to be.

And, of course, philosophically, the equivalent of that here.

Emperor Joseph II: Well, there it is.

Let's run this by...Ferris Bueller?

Salieri: All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing…and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn’t want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?

Well, at least he's in Heaven now.

Mozart: So then, you liked it? You really liked it, sire?
Emperor Joseph II: Well, of course I did! It’s very good ! Of course, now and then, just now and then it seemed a touch. . . .
Mozart: What do you mean, sire?
Emperor Joseph II: Well, I mean, occasionally, it seems to have…How shall one say. . . ? How shall one say, Herr Direktor?
Direktor: Too many notes, Majesty?
Emperor Joseph II: Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.
Mozart: l don’t understand. There are just as many notes as I required, neither more nor less.
Emperor Joseph II: My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in an evening. I think I’m right in saying that, aren’t I, court composer?
Salieri: Yes. On the whole, yes, Majesty.
Mozart: This is absurd!
Emperor Joseph II: Young man, don’t take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It’s quality work. And there are simply too many notes. Just cut a few and it’ll be perfect.
Mozart: Which few did you have in mind?

Like trying to explain philosophy to me, right?

Salieri: Are you sure you can’t leave these and, and come back again?
Constanze: It’s very tempting sir, but it’s impossible, I’m afraid. Wolfgang would be frantic if he found those were missing, you see they’re all originals.
Salieri: Originals?
Constanze: Yes, sir, he doesn’t make copies.
Salieri: These are originals?!

Genius let's call it.

Salieri: Astounding! It was actually...it was beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music. But they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. He had simply written down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it as if he were just taking dictation. And music, finished as no music is ever finished. Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase and the structure would fall. lt was clear to me that sound l had heard in the archbishop 's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God. I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink strokes at an absolute beauty.

Sort of like Immanuel Can here?

[iambiguous]

Amadeus

Salieri [addressing a crucifix of Christ]: From now on we are enemies, You and I. Because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty, infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the incarnation. Because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You, I swear it. I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin your incarnation.
[He takes the crucifix off the wall and puts it in the fire]

Of course, God forgave him. Or so I'm told.

Emanuel [After Mozart loses at musical chairs] : Herr Mozart, why don’t you name your son’s penalty?
Mozart: Yes, Papa. Name it. Name it, I’ll do anything you say. Anything.
Leopold: I want you to come back to Salzburg with me, my son.
Mozart: Papa, the rule is you can only give a penalty that can be performed in the room.
Leopold: I’m tired of this game, I don’t want to play anymore.
Mozart: But my penalty!
[jumping up and down like an angry child]
Mozart: I’ve got to have a penalty!

An idiot savant, perhaps?

Herr Direktor: What you think is scarcely the point. lt’s what His Majesty thinks that counts.
Emperor Joseph II: l am a tolerant man. l do not censor things lightly. When l do, l have good reason. Figaro is a bad play. lt stirs up hatred between classes. ln France it has caused nothing but bitterness. My sister Antoinette writes me that she is beginning to be frightened of her own people.
Mozart: Sire, l swear to you, there’s nothing like that in the piece. l took out everything that could give offense. l hate politics!
Emperor Joseph II: l’m afraid you’re rather innocent, my friend. ln these dangerous times…l cannot afford to provoke our nobles or our people simply over a theatre piece.

Next up: Karl Marx.

Mozart: Elevated! What does that mean, elevated? l am fed to the teeth with these elevated things. Old dead legends. Why must we go on forever writing only about gods and legends?
Count: Because they do. They go on forever. At least what they represent: the eternal in us. Opera is here to ennoble us, Mozart. You and me, just the same as His Majesty.
Mozart: Come on now, be honest! Who wouldn’t rather listen to a hairdresser than Hercules? Or Horatius or Orpheus. So lofty, they sound as if they shit marble!

You know what's coming: the equivalent of that here.

Salieri: And then do you know what happened? A miracle! The emperor yawned! With that yawn l saw my defeat turn into a victory. Mozart was lucky The emperor yawned only once. Three yawns and the opera would fail the same night. Two yawns within a week at most. With one yawn the composer could still get…

Nine performances as I recall.

Mozart: Why didn’t they come?
Salieri: l think you overestimate our dear Viennese, my friend. You didn’t even give them a good bang at the end of songs…to tell them when to clap.
Mozart: l know. Maybe you should give me lessons in that.

A true story?

[iambiguous]

Amadeus

Salieri: Mozart, it was good of you to come!
Mozart: How could I not?
Salieri: How…Did my work please you?
Mozart: [hesitantly] I never knew that music like that was possible!
Salieri: [uncertainly] You flatter me.
Mozart: No, no! One hears such sounds, and what can one say but…“Salieri.”

Or, here, "iambiguous"?

Salieri: So rose the dreadful ghost from his next and blackest opera, there on the stage stood the figure of a dead commander and I knew, only I understood that the horrifying aparition was Leopold, raised from the dead.
[the opera continues]
Wolfgang had actually summoned up his own father to accuse his son before all the world. It was terrifying and wonderful to watch
[the opera continues]
And now the madness began in me. The madness of the man splitting in half. Through my influence, I saw to it Don Giovanni was played only five times in Vienna but in secret I went to every one of those five worshipping a sound that only I seemed to hear.
[the opera continues]
And as I stood there understanding how that bitter old man was still possessing his poor son even from beyond the grave. I began to see a way, a terrible way, I could finally triumph over God.

"In his head", anyway.

Contanze: You know what’s ridiculous? Your libretto’s ridiculous! Only an idiot would ask Wolfie to work on that! 12 foot snakes, magic flutes?
Emanuel: What’s so intelligent about a requiem?!
Constanze: Money.

Ever since it was invented, there is no getting around the part that money plays in our little dramas. On or off the stage.

Salieri: Your merciful God. He destroyed his own beloved rather than let a mediocrity share in the smallest part of his glory. He killed Mozart. And kept me alive to torture. 32 years of torture. years of slowly watching myself become extinct! My music growing fainter. All the time fainter till no one plays it at all.

When's the last time you played him?

Salieri: I will speak for you, Father. I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint.

At least you know you have one.

Salieri [wheelchaired through the insane asylum]: Mediocrities everywhere I absolve you…I absolve you…I absolve you…I absolve you. I absolve you all.

Next up: Judgment Day.

[iambiguous]

Elfriede Jelinek The Piano Teacher

Every day, a piece of music, a short story, or a poem dies because its existence is no longer justified in our time. And things that were once considered immortal have become mortal again, no one knows them anymore. Even though they deserve to survive.

Not much that doesn't include.
Eventually.

The first thing a proprietor learns, and painfully at that, is: Trust is fine, but control is better.

If only until the workers of the world unite.

No art can possibly comfort her then, even though art is credited with so many things, especially an ability to offer solace. Sometimes, of course, art creates the suffering in the first place.

Or, as I try to suggest here, philosophy.

...simple people listen to music with their hearts and enjoy it more than those who are spoiled, jaded, blase.

I'm reasonably sure that I do.

Strictly speaking, there are no holidays for art; art pursues you everywhere, and that's just fine with the artist.

Next up: fArt.

After all, people with a herd instinct hold mediocrity in high esteem. They praise it as having great value. They believe they are strong because they are the majority.

And certainly the globalists!

[iambiguous]

Midnight Cowboy

From all directions: Where’s that Joe Buck?!

Still, in Florida?

Ralph: What are you gonna do back East?
Joe Buck: There’s a lot of rich women there—begging for it. Paying for it too.

You know, with proper "management".

Ratso: You gotta get yourself some management.
Joe Buck: You put your finger on it.
Ratso: You know what you need? You need my friend O’Daniel. He operates the biggest stable in town!

Their fate is sealed.

Joe Buck: Pardon me, Ma’am, I’m brand, spankin’ new in this here town and I was hopin’ to get a look at the Statue of Liberty.
Cass: It’s up in Central Park, taking a leak. If you hurry, you can catch the supper show.

On the other hand...

Cass: You were gonna ask me for money? Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with, some old slut on 42nd Street? In case you didn’t happen to notice it, ya big Texas longhorn bull, I’m one helluva gorgeous chick!

He ends up giving her twenty bucks!

Joe Buck [to O’Daniel]: Uh, well, sir, I ain’t a f’real cowboy. But I am one helluva stud!

And now with a manager to boot.

[iambiguous]

Death

“Things die. But they don't always stay dead. Believe me, I know." Richelle Mead

For example?

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” Edgar Allan Poe

Me? No way.

“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.” Socrates

In other words, no one knows.

“Tell your friend that in his death, a part of you dies and goes with him. Wherever he goes, you also go. He will not be alone.”J. Krishnamurti

Another fucking Swami?!

“My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die.
I counted.
It happened on the Jellicoe Road. The prettiest road I’d ever seen, where trees made breezy canopies like a tunnel to Shangri-La. We were going to the ocean, hundreds of miles away, because I wanted to see the ocean and my father said that it was about time the four of us made that journey. I remember asking, 'What’s the difference between a trip and a journey?' and my father said, 'Narnie, my love, when we get there, you’ll understand,' and that was the last thing he ever said.” Melina Marchetta

What to make of that? Something though, right?

“You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after.” Sheridan Le Fanu

How's that working out for you?

[iambiguous]

Midnight Cowboy

O’Daniel: You and me are gonna have fun together. It don’t have to be joyless!
Joe Buck: Hell no.
O’Daniel: Why don’t you and me get down on our knees right now?
Joe Buck: Where?

Right there, Joe Buck!

Joe Buck: You know what you gotta do, Cowboy.

And what a fiasco that turned out to be!

Ratso [when Joe Buck finally catches up with him]: How do you like that O’Daniel, flippin’ out like that!

And in New York of all places!

Ratso: I got my own private entrance here. You’re the only one that knows about it.

There's a reason for that, of course.

Ratso: You know, in my own place, my name ain’t Ratso. I mean, it just so happens that in my own place my name is Enrico Salvatore Rizzo.
Joe Buck: Well, I can’t say all that.
Ratso: Rico, then. At least call me Rico in my own goddamn place.

Before it's demolished in other words.

Ratso: Miami Beach, that’s where you could score. Anybody can score there, even you. In New York, no rich lady with any class at all buys that cowboy crap anymore. They’re laughin’ at you on the street.
Joe Buck: Ain’t nobody laughin’ at me on the street.
Ratso: Behind your back, I’ve seen ‘em laughin’ at you, fella.
Joe Buck: Aw, what the hell you know about women anyway? When’s the last time you scored, boy?
Ratso: That’s a matter I only talk about at confession. We’re not talkin’ about me now.
Joe Buck: And when’s the last time you’ve been to confession?
Ratso: It’s between me and my confessor. And I’ll tell ya another thing. Frankly, you’re beginning to smell. And for a stud in New York, that’s a handicap.
Joe Buck: Well, don’t talk to me about clean. I ain’t never seen you change your underwear once the whole time I’ve been here in New York. And that’s pretty peculiar behavior.
Ratso: I don’t have to do that kind of thing in public. I ain’t got no need to expose myself.
Joe Buck: [cruelly] No, I bet you don’t. I bet you ain’t never even been laid! How about that? And you’re gonna tell me what appeals to women!
Ratso: I know enough to know that that great big, dumb cowboy crap of yours don’t appeal to nobody except every jockey on 42nd Street. That’s faggot stuff! You wanna call it by its name? That’s strictly for fags!
Joe Buck: John Wayne! You wanna tell me he’s a fag?
[after a long pause]
Joe Buck: I like the way I look. It makes me feel good. It does. And women like me, god-dammit. Hell, only one thing I’ve ever been good for is lovin’. Women go crazy for me. That’s a really true fact. Ratso, hell: Crazy Annie, they had to send her away.
Ratso: Then how come you ain’t scored once, the whole time you’ve been in New York?
Joe Buck: 'Cause, ‘cause I need management, god-dammit. ‘Cause you stole twenty dollars offa me. That’s why you’re gonna stop crappin’ around about Florida. And, and get your skinny butt movin.’ And earn twenty dollars worth of management which you owe me!

A "buddy film" let's call it.

[iambiguous]

Midnight Cowboy

Ratso: You want the word on that brother-and-sister act, Hansel’s a fag and Gretel’s got the hots for herself, so who cares, right? Load up on the salami.

On the other hand...

Gretel: Why are you stealing food?
Ratso: I was just, uh, noticing that you’re out of salami. I think you oughtta have somebody go over to the delicatessen, you know, bring some more back.
Gretel: Gee, well, you know, it’s free. You don’t have to steal it.
Ratso: Well, if it’s free, then I ain’t stealin’ it.

Yeah, what about that, Gretel?

Joe Buck: I like the way I look. Makes me feel good, it does. And women like me, goddammit. Hell, the only one thing I ever been good for is lovin'. Women go crazy for me, that's a really true fact! Ratso, hell! Crazy Annie they had to send her away!
Ratso: Then, how come you ain't scored once the whole time you been in New York?

Yeah, what about that, Joe Buck?

Ratso: Hey listen, don’t get sore or anything.
Joe Buck: I won’t get sore.
Ratso: I don’t think I can walk anymore.

They'll need money for bus fare...

Towny: Oh, Joe it’s…it’s so difficult, I - You’re a nice person, Joe, I- I- I should never have asked you up here, you’re…You’re a lovely person, really. Oh, God, I loathe life, I loathe it! Please go, please.

And, of course, eventually, he does.

Ratso: Here I am, goin’ to Florida, my leg hurts, my butt hurts, my chest hurts, my face hurts, and like that ain’t enough, I gotta pee all over myself.
[Joe Buck laughs]
Ratso: That’s funny? I’m fallin’ apart here!
Joe Buck: It’s just...know what happened? You just took a little rest stop that wasn’t on the schedule!

And why stop there.

Ratso: I mean I understand, a dame starts crying, I'd cut my heart out for her.
Jackie - New York: [passing by] I'd call that a very minor operation. In fact, you just sit comfy, and I'll cut it out with my fingernail file, Ratso.
Ratso: The name's Rizzo.
Jackie - New York: That's what I said: Ratso.
Joe Buck: Hey, now you heard him.
Ratso: Oh, that's all right, Joe. I mean, uh, you know, I'm used to these types that get their kicks pickin' on cripples. I mean, the sewer's full of 'em.

Next up: the equivalent of that here?

[iambiguous]

Wall Street

Bud: Look Dad, I’m not a salesman. How many times I gotta tell you I’m an account executive, and pretty soon I’m going to the investment banking side of the firm.
Carl: You get on the phone and ask strangers for their money, right? You’re a salesman.

And, as it turned out, not a very good one.

Natalie: Five minutes, Mr Fox.
Bud: Life all comes down to a few moments. This is one of them.

Next up: a few moments here.

Gekko: Come on, Pal, tell me something I don’t know. It’s my birthday. Surprise me.
Bud: Bluestar. Bluestar airlines.

More to the point, the way he brought it up.

Bud: Fuck! Marv, I just bagged the elephant!
Marv: Gekko…

And don't forget Darien.

Gekko: The public is out there throwing darts at a board, Sport. I don’t throw darts at a board. I bet on sure things. Read Sun Tzu, The Art of War. Every battle is won before it’s fought.

And, no, not up in the clouds.

Gekko: Give me guys that are poor, smart and hungry. And no feelings…And if you need a friend, get a dog.

The boiler room!